Patricia Rice (32 page)

“I told you not to think on it.” Miles slammed his
fork down and took another deep drink of his ale. He choked. “It’s
better than hanging. It’s probably better than being transported and
sold into servitude for fourteen years. Now, let’s change the subject.”

Silence fell as everyone’s thoughts turned to
Morgan’s proud character submitting to the humiliation of public
branding, or being forced to work at degrading labor for the better part
of his years. Hanging almost seemed preferable.

Faith couldn’t bear to think of it. She scrambled
desperately for a different topic, something to distract them from these
horrifying images. Her mind sought the peace and security of their
cottage in the forest, and there she found her one and only treasure.
She played with it for a while, steadying her nerves with new ideas and
questions, until the silence became unbearable and she released the toy
to ease their anxiety.

“What do you know of publishing books, Miles?” She asked as she forked a leathery carrot.

Both men stared at her as if she had taken leave of
her senses, but she met their gazes calmly, and Miles replied. “I don’t
know much, but it is easy enough to find out. One of my mother’s
brothers has a printing press and prints pamphlets. He’ll know whom to
talk to. Are you planning on writing a book?”

Faith smiled at the idea. “I think not, but my
father did. The copy is not perfectly clear, and he never had time to
correct it, but he was a very good writer, almost as good as he was at
speaking. Do you think anyone might be interested in seeing it?”

This was a beautiful topic. Miles took a deep breath of relief, and even Toby looked less green.

“I don’t see why not. Would you have it printed under your father’s name or a pseudonym?”

Faith tilted her head and gave it some thought. “I
would like to see his name on it, if I could. The world shouldn’t be
allowed to ignore his existence. Yes, I think I would very much like to
see his name in print, with a dedication to my mother.”

What she was suggesting was very dangerous to her
health, but Miles gave her a smile of approval. “Then once we have you
settled into your new rooms, and Toby goes back to fetch the horses, he
can also fetch your father’s papers. You can go through and edit any
errors and copy pages in a fair hand while I look for someone who might
be interested in publishing it.”

Faith offered a smile in return, and their
conversation carried on in choppy fits and starts until it was time to
leave. As Miles guided her out into the streets, she threw one last look
in the direction of the tower block of Newgate, then turned her back
and walked away. She vowed that when next she saw Morgan, he would be a
free man.

***

“I thought Edward said he had found the girl.” Lady
Carlisle winced at the almost querulous tone of her words. The
nightmares were back, and she couldn’t seem to escape them. The lack of
sleep had stretched her nerves to a thin elastic. Wrapping her frail
hands around the knob of her walking stick, she held her back straight
as she sat before the fire, watching the marquess stride restlessly
about the brilliant carpet.

“It wasn’t the right chit. Edward should have known
better than to believe any harebrained notion of that runner’s. Imagine
believing George’s daughter would live in sin with a highwayman! I hate
to say it, Lettice, but that son of mine has mush between his ears.”

Lady Carlisle sniffed disdainfully. “And your brains
have always been in a different location, Harry. After siring two sons,
you wasted yourself on actresses and lightskirts instead of producing
more legitimate heirs. I feel no sorrow for you. George was a good boy. A
trifle loose in the beam on some subjects, perhaps, but we cannot all
be practical. You should never have thrown him out, Harry. I place the
sole responsibility for my granddaughter’s loss on your shoulders.”

Mountjoy growled and glared at the fire. “Don’t call
me the only guilty party, Lettice. Your infernal husband—and to hell
with the dead—was as eager to disown him as I. Methodists! Whoever heard
of such puling, miserable—”

Lady Carlisle rapped the floor with her stick. “I
will not hear another word of it, Harry! My granddaughter can be a
heathen Oriental for all I care. I want her returned to me, and I want
her now.” Her voice broke, and she struggled for the regal composure
that had held her together all these years. “She’s alone, Harry. I know
what it means to be alone. You
must
find her. I
cannot bear to think... What if this highwayman...?” She couldn’t bring
herself to say the words. They came too close to her worst nightmares.

The marquess stiffened as her fears met his. “We’ll
find her, Lettice. And if that damned highwayman has touched a hair on
her head, I’ll see him hanged. That’s a promise.”

That was a promise he would have no difficulty
keeping, since he had no confidence at all that the highwayman knew
aught of his granddaughter. Edward was being led around like a pig with a
ring in his nose by that wretched runner.

To hell with the highwayman. No, the Methodists were
where the search should begin. Wesley hadn’t produced any satisfactory
results yet, but at least he was a gentleman. That was more than could
be said of that damned lying runner who had got their hopes up once too
often.

Talking himself into the confidence that he was
doing all that could be done, the marquess took his chair and poured
himself some brandy.

***

Faith was still making promises to herself two days
later when she tied the hood of her mantle and started down the stairs
to the first floor and the street. Any day now, Morgan would be a free
man. Any day now, they could step out into the world as man and wife.
Today she would meet with Miles and he would tell her Morgan was ready
to leave that dreadful place.

In the last two days, Toby had brought not only her
father’s papers but also changes of clothing, and Miles had insisted
that she buy the small necessities to make her a lady in the eyes of her
neighbors. He didn’t know she had chosen the hooded mantle not because
it was stylish, but because it hid her face. She felt as if there were a
thousand things written in her face that no proper lady would ever
know. She felt safer behind its protection, from herself as well as the
rest of the world.

Arriving at their appointed meeting place, Faith shook back her hood and unfastened her mantle in the warmth of the inn’s fire.

A streak of sun from a dirty window caught the red
glint of her hair, causing Miles to catch his breath. Faith had always
seemed plain and small to him, but he suddenly had a glimpse of what had
caught and held Morgan’s eye. It was as if she had come to life before
him. Her smile, when it came, was almost devastating.

“You have news for me?” she asked eagerly.

It wasn’t the news she most wanted to hear, but
Faith was intelligent enough to know that. Miles held out a chair for
her, and after she was seated, waited for the servant to take their
order and leave.

“Only to tell you that Morgan is scheduled to come
before the court tomorrow. The docket is a long one. I cannot give you
the time. Some days, it is long into the night. Do not get your hopes up
too far.”

Faith twisted her fingers together and forced her
hopes into abeyance, but she couldn’t help the sudden leap of hope.
“Have you arranged everything as you said? There will be no
complications?”

Miles laid his hands upon the table and gave her a
stern look. “Do not look at me as if I am God. I am only human. I have
arranged everything that I know how. I have seen to it that the fence
who was arrested got off easily and is now out of the country, so he
cannot testify against Morgan. The only other witness is the Runner who
followed Morgan. He is the most dangerous part of the plan, for he not
only witnessed Morgan selling the jewels but also saw the actual
robbery. Since he is in your uncle’s employ, he is not easily bought. I
have made other arrangements to keep him away from the trial tomorrow.
If they fail, I have one of the best barristers in the business to stand
up for Morgan in court. I make no promises. Without a witness, there is
no case, but I cannot know if your uncle is still interested or to what
lengths he is prepared to go.”

Faith nodded in understanding, hiding her fears as
well as her hopes. The servant brought their hot chocolate and buns, and
she waited for the man to leave again before she asked the next
question. “And if all goes wrong and he is found guilty?”

Miles flattened his tricorne against the table as he
lifted his cup. “We will bribe him out of Newgate and you will have to
run for a ship. He won’t be safe here any longer, but the long arm of
the law has not yet reached the colonies to any great effect. Morgan
didn’t hire me because of my simple mind.”

Faith smiled faintly. “I have observed that. You
seem an honest man, Mr. Golden. I do not know how you know so much about
these nefarious duties.”

Miles shrugged. “I was brought up in the streets of
London, Mrs. O’Neill. I was fortunate enough to have a large and caring
family, but others were not. I learned from what I had and from those
who had not. And I never turned up my nose at any man because of his
profession or breeding. One in my position cannot.”

He did not say one of his religion could not, but it
was understood. Centuries of their presence had not made Jews any more
English to the English eye than Gypsies. Faith did not know his whole
story and probably never would, but there were undoubtedly many
similarities to Morgan’s. Her own paled in comparison. “Morgan is
fortunate to have you for friend. I hope he has not strained the
relationship too far in this.”

Miles offered a small grin. “He pays me well to test
the boundaries of our friendship. I have never asked of his family, but
only a true nobleman can afford to be as generous as he. And I am not
talking just of money. There are those who are willing to take my coins
and my services but will not sit at the same table with me. Perhaps
Morgan is a right royal bastard at times, excuse my language, but he has
character. I’ll take that against all the noble names you can produce.”

Just to be able to talk of Morgan eased Faith’s
pain. Sheltered as she had been, there had been no one to speak of him,
no one who could confirm her opinions or call her fool if she were. It
was good to have her loyalty to Morgan justified by someone else.

“From what I understand, my family’s noble names
mean little in the way of true nobility. I am glad my parents taught me
to place small reliance on such worldly things. I hope when this is over
that you will still call me friend too.”

Miles ignored the cloud covering the sun. From what
he understood of Morgan’s curt commands, she would be needing a friend
when this was over.

He touched his hand to hers where it rested on her cup. “I hope when this is over, you won’t turn me aside.”

The weight of a hundred pounds of chains on his
wrists and ankles was heavier on Morgan’s pride than his strength. He
kept his gaze turned straight ahead without looking at the equally
weighted wretches to either side of him. Some were practically bent
double beneath the iron. Others coughed with the hacking croup that
spoke of near death.

But besides those whose imprisonment had left them
weak and ailing, there were those who were familiar with their
surroundings. They joked and gambled and pressed their attentions on the
various and assorted females in the chilly holding room. All waited for
judgments on their crimes, and most were certainly heading for the
gallows or transportation. There were few crimes that allowed for
anything else.

They had already been here for hours, and the stench
was becoming unbearable. Morgan had learned to stand his own in any
kind of company, but he had always before had the freedom to leave when
he pleased. The guilt that had eaten at him for so long found an outlet
as he saw himself in these craven creatures.

Morgan tried to concentrate on the court proceedings
below, but it was like watching a Punchinello show. He could not
concentrate on the elaborate arguments and voluble tirades and outbreaks
of angry cries and wails. Every so often, as another victim was
branded, the courtroom grew quiet to savor the screams of pain, but
these only served to tighten the knot around the meager breakfast Morgan
had taken.

He had already scanned the crowd in search of anyone
he knew, and felt some measure of relief that she was not here. He had
feared Faith would overcome Miles’s objections and insist on waiting
throughout the day for his turn. He had known he would say anything to
get her out of here.

Miles was here somewhere, but Morgan wasn’t
interested in facing him either. The humiliation of being caught was
great enough. If they wished to hang him, Morgan wished they would just
get it over with and be done. He had known this day would come, but now
that it was here, he wondered if he should have done things a little
differently.

Morgan squared his shoulders and clenched his teeth
as another poor soul was put to the brand. His main regret was that he
had not accomplished what he set out to do, he told himself. He had
allowed the bloody Sassenachs to win. The anger kept him strong.

The image of Faith’s trusting face floated before
his mind’s eye, but Morgan refused to acknowledge it. There was one sin
he would not carry on his soul should he fail. Faith would be taken care
of. Perhaps he should not have forced himself on her that last time. It
might be better if she could have that farce of a marriage easily
annulled without the fear of a child. But he could not regret the
thought of a child.

She had his name, or part of it. If she stayed with
him, he would only pull her down into the gutter. He had caused her all
the pain that he intended to cause. No, he wouldn’t think of Faith with
regret. She was good and whole and he would tarnish her no more.